


The Ibis Maid

by mimosa-supernova (FourCatProductions)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Butch/Femme, Childhood Friends, Courtly Love, F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, Festivals, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Loyalty, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Outdoor Sex, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17701019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/pseuds/mimosa-supernova
Summary: In which there is a festival, a princess determined to buck tradition, and a guard that has Thoughts about her oldest friend's impending engagement.





	The Ibis Maid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mautadite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/gifts).



> Hello, mautadite! I was really excited to get this assignment for this exchange, and it's been a blast to write. Here is the full and complete version, and I hope you enjoy!

The morning of Princess Tsehai’s twenty-first trip around the sun, a pair of sacred ibis alighted in the palace fountains – an auspicious sign, the seers proclaimed after conferring in their chambers. Aysha privately thought it was all rot, signs and seers alike, but she kept her mouth shut. With Tsehai, they needed all the help they could get.

“She’s missing again,” E’lani said as soon as she opened the door. Not even time for breakfast and already the head attendant was frazzled, thick brows knotted in exasperation. “I’m telling you now, this is the _one week_ we need everything to go perfectly, and if she gets up to her usual tricks – “

“It’s fine, E’lani.” Aysha touched the other woman’s shoulder, and she fell silent. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Yes, well. If anyone can get through to her highness, I suppose it’d be you.” E’lani took a deep breath and smoothed down the front of her _kemi_ , some of her composure returning. “Assuming you can find her.”

Aysha looked around the empty golden expanse of the chamber. The bed was rumpled and the covers flung aside, dresses and scarves hanging out of the wardrobe and crumpled on the floor, and the picture window by the desk was open, its shutters askew. It looked as though a giant bird had been disturbed into sudden flight, and she hid the smile threatening to disrupt her face.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know where she is.”

*****

The north tower of the palace was unoccupied, and had been for years, since the battle that cost King Yekuno’s husband his life and the king himself an eye. There was no need for a war room any longer. Not when Eskos was so justly ruled, and her royals so beloved by her people. It was locked, of course, but one only needed to know which door had faulty hinges to slip inside, and Aysha followed the winding marble staircase up to the top, where the dovecote was once kept. Now it was deserted and dusty, stinking of hay and stale bird shit, and she ducked through the low door that led the rooftop, the sun blinding her momentarily.

“You’re supposed to be getting ready for breakfast.”

“I already ate,” Tsehai said. Even this high off the ground she was fearless, legs dangling over the scalloped edge of the garret. It had been that way even when they were children. Aysha, older and more cautious, preferred solid ground beneath her feet, while Tsehai chased enviously after the doves and herons overhead, dreaming of flight. There was nothing too high for her to climb, as if she could escape the earth’s pull by sheer strength of will. A half-open napkin sat in her lap, full of crispy chechebsa. She held it out with a grin. “We can share, if you want. I won’t tell.”

Aysha sighed. “Your Highness – “

“No one else is here. You can just call me Tsehai.”

“Yes, fine. Tsehai, is it really so much to ask that you cooperate with the attendants for once? You’re going to send E’lani to an early grave.”

“E’lani is far too high-strung for her own good, and she’s terrible at doing hair. Even the other servants make excuses when she picks up her combs.” Tsehai’s braids were nearly to her waist, the same silvery-white color as her father’s. The sign of the gods-touched, the seers said. They glowed against the rich mahogany of her skin, a few shades darker than Aysha’s. “Besides, it’s just me and Father this morning. I don’t see why I need to get into full regalia.”

“It’s tradition. Iyasu the Great established Eskos in his twenty-first year, and as he came into his own, so now do you,” Aysha recited, mimicking the dull cadence of Tsehai’s old history tutor. Tsehai let out a peal of surprised laughter, looking pleased.

“You do still have a sense of humor! I thought maybe you traded it in for your _Fitawrari_.”

“Just because you’re incapable of taking anything seriously doesn’t mean it’s so unnatural for the rest of us, your Highness.” Aysha inclined her head toward the tower. “Please. The Festival of the Ibis Maid starts tomorrow, and there’s still much to do.”

For a moment she thought Tsehai might refuse, but then the princess wrapped up the remains of her breakfast and climbed to her feet, balanced precariously on the dew-slick tiles. “Your sense of duty is rubbing off on me.” She held out a delicate hand, and Aysha took it, steadying her while she hiked up her skirt and climbed to sturdier ground, back through the window. “Then again, you always were a rotten influence.”

Aysha snorted, bolting the shutter behind them. “Your Highness is welcome to believe that as long as she likes.”

“I will, thank you.” Tsehai swept her braids over her shoulder, revealing the graceful line of her bare neck. Aysha looked away. “That reminds me, I was thinking I’d go out tonight. Have my own little celebration. Care to join me?”

“You’re aware that telling me about it means I’m obligated to try and stop you, yes?”

“Yes, but we both know you won’t.” Tsehai winked. “You can, however, come along to make sure I don’t get into any trouble. Father worries less that way.” Aysha shook her head, exasperated into temporary silence, and Tsehai’s smile dimmed, replaced by something softer. She laid her hand on Aysha’s arm. “You will come, won’t you? It won’t be as much fun without you.”

These were the moments Aysha both relished and dreaded, the little reminders that as Tsehai’s oldest friend, she was allowed these confidences and touches, but nothing more. Soon even those would be gone, reserved for her future consort. But she was _Fitawrari_ of the Kebur Zabagna now, the king’s own royal guard, not some lovesick maiden weeping over what could never be; as long as she stood at Tsehai’s side, serving her country, she would find contentment. It would be enough.

“Of course, Princess.”

Tsehai clasped her hands gleefully, like she’d just been given the most lavish of birthday gifts, instead of simple words. “Perfect! Now, let’s go. It reeks in here.”

All else aside, Aysha would have accompanied Tsehai even if she’d despised her or been forbidden to follow – the princess’ frequent jaunts into the city necessitated some sort of protection, if only for the king’s peace of mind. Tsehai insisted they both worried too much. Didn’t they trust their people? She did, and even Aysha could reluctantly admit that she had little reason to fear for her safety. That was how it had always been. Tsehai stabbed her fingers when she tried to sew, had no patience for letters or numbers, danced passably at best, and her singing voice could strip the bark from a yarrow tree, but none of that seemed to matter when people were drawn to her wherever she went. That night, watching her play in the street with the tavern owner’s children, dust all over her fine clothes, it occurred to Aysha that she could have very easily hated Tsehai. To be beautiful and blessed with an overabundance of love often bred something foul, but instead Tsehai had taken that joy and reflected it back out into the world so that it could shine on everyone she met, unfiltered and genuine. There was no sense in trying to contain it; she was too wild-hearted and clever by half, too hungry to be kept behind the palace walls. They made a strange pair on their excursions – Tsehai, small, dark and fine-featured, bouncing along next to Aysha’s tall, plainly-armored bulk. At first the people were wary of her, but they’d come to accept her with time. As long as no one threatened the princess, she meant them no harm.

“Tell us a story,” one of them pled now, and Tsehai pursed her lips, pretending to think about it. The sun was starting to set, the horizon striped blush and gold, and all the buildings cast long purple shadows across the square, which was deserted except for the two of them and the children gathered at her feet. Nightjars cooed sleepily in the distance.

“What sort of a story should I tell you?”

“The Ibis Maid!” another shouted, and the rest chattered excitedly in agreement. Out of the corner of her eye, Aysha noticed the tavern owner’s wife and a few of the fishermen who liked to drink there hovering in the doorway. Nobody was ever too old for a good story. Tsehai crossed her arms, mock-serious.

“Didn’t I tell you that one last time?”

“Tell it again! Please?”

“Very well,” she said, and even though Aysha had heard a hundred different versions of the tale a hundred different times, she still leaned in as her princess began.

*****

Long ago, when the world was still new, there lived a princess who was cursed by the circumstances of her birth. Her mother was a queen who had an affair with a powerful sorcerer, who would meet with her in the form of a giant ibis to avoid his wife’s notice. When the pregnancy was announced, his jealous wife flew into a rage and cast a spell on the unborn child. _She will be a constant reminder of your indiscretion,_ she swore, and the queen wept, for she had always wanted a daughter, but not like this. When the girl was born she hatched from an egg, and her mother cradled her close and said _I will name you Jalene,_ which means ‘the most loved’ in the ancient tongue. _That is my gift to you._

Jalene grew into a thoughtful and kind-hearted girl over the years, but she was only a girl at night. Her days were spent as an ibis, nesting among the reeds or flying high above the city to observe the people who lived below, and rumors spread across the land of a princess hidden away from the world. Many tried and failed to glimpse her, for the palace walls were steep and the guards vigilant – if she were to reveal the nature of her condition, even accidentally, she would stay an ibis forever. The queen did her best to give her daughter all she could, but there are some things a mother cannot do for her child, and unbeknownst to anyone, Jalene had already fallen in love.

The gardener’s son was named Frew, and he had kind eyes and gentle hands when he came to tend to the plants, singing to them while he weeded and watered. Jalene took to watching him from the trees, alternately adoring and despairing. How was she to speak with a man who only came during the day? Just once, she wanted him to look at her and see her as she was; she wanted to hear that tender voice call her name. When it became too much to bear, she took her lamentations to her mother.

 _It’s for the best,_ the queen said. _You know you would not be able to keep him. You must marry a prince, if you marry at all._

 _I wish I could be a bird always,_ Jalene sobbed, her head in her mother’s lap. _Maybe then I would not love him._ And the queen, who had never truly forgiven herself, resolved that she would see her daughter happy, if only for a while. She called the gardener before her diamond throne the following day.

 _There is a flower in the garden that only blooms at night,_ she said. _Send your son to take care of it._

Frew arrived that evening, just as the stars began to shine, and found not a flower but a princess, bathing naked in the fountain. When she saw him she stood, and he fell to his knees from the sheer beauty of the sight, umber skin cast silver in the moonlight and hair like a storm cloud around her head. He had never known beauty could move him to tears. He stayed until the sun rose, and came back every night after for the next year, until the queen came to tell her that their time together was nearing its end.

_You will be twenty-one soon, old enough to rule, and a queen needs a royal consort. You cannot marry him._

Jalene pled and cried, wheedled and raged, but her mother was unmoved. _I warned you,_ she said. _Love makes us all into fools._ There would be suitors, worthy and wealthy, and at the end of the courtship period she would choose one to marry, as all her ancestors had done before her. Jalene tried to flee, but the queen locked her in her chambers, and when Frew arrived that night, he found himself barred from the palace. _Go,_ the queen said, sorrowful. _You will only make it harder for her._

Forced to face her circumstances, Jalene hoped no one would come, but tales of the mysterious princess who could only come out at night had spread far and wide, bringing suitors from all over – princes and kings, lords and dukes, sultans and emperors, each bearing marvelous gifts from his homeland. A banquet was prepared to welcome them, and she smiled and danced beneath her mother’s watchful eye, whirling around the hall in time to the music and plying them all with drink. The queen’s wine she laced with a powerful sleeping draught, so that she could flirt and play and sing to keep the rest awake until dawn, when the sun’s first rays pierced the windowpanes.

 _I would rather be an ibis,_ Jalene said, and feathers erupted from her skin.

When she awoke, the queen ordered her guard to bring her daughter back, but Jalene was beyond them all now – beyond mothers, beyond suitors, beyond the earth itself. She had inherited the skies. The news spread as news often does, quickly and without remorse, and as soon as it reached the outskirts of the city Frew left his father’s home and raced for the uplands before anyone could stop him. He ran through groves of mimosa and natal yellow pine, climbed gnarled sycamores, and skirted fig trees and laurels until he found the tall mossy tower where the sorcerer and his wife lived, surrounded by pomegranate and lime trees. The sorcerer’s wife sat outside, reading curlew entrails, and when she saw him she offered him half a pomegranate, saying _I thought I might have a visitor today._

 _Please,_ Frew said, juice dripping from his mouth like blood. _I can’t be without her._

The sorcerer’s wife smiled and ate the other half of the pomegranate, licking the crushed seeds from her fingers. _Very well,_ she said through red-stained lips. _As you wish._

*****

“Because of their sacrifice, the queen introduced a decree that anyone who can prove themselves worthy is allowed to marry into the royal family, bucking centuries of tradition. And that,” Tsehai finished, “is why a pair of mated ibis flying together is seen as a symbol of everlasting love.”

“So, they stayed birds forever?” one of the children asked. “They never got turned back?” Tsehai nodded.

“But that’s so sad,” a different girl protested.

“Silly,” Tsehai said. “There are all kinds of happy endings.”

*****

The moon sat high and proud on a throne of stars by the time they returned to the palace, and Aysha stopped Tsehai just outside her door. Everyone else slumbered, with only the lamps lit in the halls to see by, so she did it quietly, putting a hand on Tsehai’s shoulder, and Tsehai looked at her with expectant eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s fine. Listen, I got you something.” She withdrew the box, square and neat in the center of her palm, and held it out. “I know you always say I shouldn’t get you anything, but it’s your twenty-first, so… here.” She wasn’t nervous. There was no reason to be nervous. Tsehai might have been a princess, but she was also _Tsehai_ , the little girl who used to run naked around the palace halls and pretend she was a dolphin in the fountains, and Aysha had already celebrated twenty of her birthdays, and none of that explained why her heart was beating so hard as she watched Tsehai unwrap the ribbon around her gift with careful fingers. The earrings she’d found at the market weren’t expensive or even all that fashionable, but she’d thought Tsehai might like them, silver studs with a perfect pink pearl dangling from each one by a whisper-thin chain. In retrospect, it seemed foolish. It wasn’t like Tsehai didn’t have plenty of jewelry. “It’s not much, but – “

“They’re perfect,” Tsehai said. For a second it looked like she might try to hug Aysha, the way she took a step forward, but then she paused and tucked a stray braid behind her ear, eyes downcast. It wasn’t like her, to be so shy. “They’re… no, really. I love them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Aysha said, and maybe it was just the way Tsehai kept looking up at her through her lashes, but she found herself lingering by the door, not wanting to leave. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can.”

“Would you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Give up your humanity for love.”

It was an impulsive question, overreaching, but Tsehai smiled before Aysha could tell her to forget it. The oil lamps flickered overhead, washing her skin topaz. “I would have done exactly what Jalene did.”

“Really.”

“I suppose that makes me terribly selfish, doesn’t it? Wanting that freedom no matter the cost – no, don’t answer that.” She tilted her head, speculative. “Would you?”

Every fiber of Aysha’s being, honed by years of training, rebelled at the thought. Civilization was built and maintained on the backbone of honor and duty, and without it, only chaos and lawless destruction remained. How could she give up the very thing she’d spent her life striving for? Another part of her, smaller but no less insistent, surfaced, along with a stark image: Tsehai stripped bare, bathed in silver with water sparkling on her skin like black diamonds. _What if that was you, gardener’s daughter?_ it whispered. _Can you really say you wouldn’t do the same?_

“I would never abandon you,” she said. Tsehai laughed, brittle and bright, and patted her hand.

“I knew it. You’d never let a little thing like love get in the way of duty.”

“Your Highness?”

“Good night, _Fitawrari._ ” Tsehai opened the chamber door. “Sleep well.”

Aysha pressed her knuckles to her forehead. “Good night.” The door closed, but she lingered for a moment longer, frowning. Tsehai’s words stung, though she couldn’t say why, except that it felt like she’d missed something. They bit at her like horseflies, and her dreams that night were filled with flowers that wept when she picked them, one by one by one.

*****

The first day of the festival brought anticipation along with the dawn, ripe enough that by the time Aysha finished bathing and dressed, the palace fairly shivered with it. There hadn’t been an Ibis Maid celebration since King Yekuno’s twenty-first birthday nearly thirty years ago, before much of the current staff was old enough to remember it, and gossip flew from the kitchen to the scullery to the chapel and all the way out to the groundskeepers and stable hands, full of eager speculation. She was forced to sidestep two of the serving girls as they came dashing around the corner, slopping buckets full of water everywhere.

“How many suitors do you think she’ll have?”

“Oh, loads probably. I heard E’lani talking the other day, said His Majesty has been receiving marriage proposals since Her Highness’s sixteenth – “

They disappeared down one of the paths to the bathhouse, chattering like magpies all the way, and Aysha squinted her way across the grounds, sun beating down mercilessly overhead. She’d been obliged to wear her ceremonial armor, with its heavy bronze breastplate and elaborately carved mask, and sweat ran down her back, a sour feeling roiling in her gut. Inside the palace it was cooler, but soon the throne room would be packed with foreign bodies, each one vying for the favor of the future queen. Outside its walls, the whole country celebrated, the air filled with the scents of food and drink and song from travelers and nearby villages. The sour feeling grew stronger.

The rest of the Kebur Zabagna was already in attendance, lining either side of the steps up to the dais. They saluted Aysha as one with the tips of their spears, and she returned it as she took her place beside the king’s empty throne. The Council of Seers sat in their half-moon arrangement just below, and she could feel eyes on her, even at a distance. Not everyone had agreed with King Yekuno’s decision to make her the youngest _Fitawrari_ in a century. Outside, the drums rumbled, and there was a great creaking and groaning as the gates began to open. The first of the suitors had arrived.

“All bow,” the herald droned, and the king swept into the room, the princess at his right hand. Both father and daughter wore their ceremonial dress in shades of deep purple and red, faces painted and braids arranged elaborately atop their heads. Fifty years of life had done little to age Yekuno, save the faint grooves in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes, which were still as clear and sharp as the day he first took the throne. He sat now, Tsehai resplendent where she settled beside him, and gestured impatiently for the court to rise.

“Enough. Let’s not keep our guests waiting.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the herald said, and blew the great, curling ram’s horn he held aloft. Its trumpeting echo rolled out through the windows and down the halls. The drums rose to meet it, thundering proud, and the Festival of the Ibis Maid began.

It was a procession unlike anything Eskos had seen in decades, and even Aysha found herself reluctantly dazzled. Emperors from lands of ice and snow, sultans of floating cities beyond the mountains, princes and kings from empires built on blistering sands and sea-cliff eyries, and even a queen from the heart of the jungle; they came in splendid droves, riding beasts she’d only heard about in stories and bearing gifts for both the king and their potential bride. Each offer was more impressive than the last: bars of pure silver and gold, tonics and perfumes, hand-crushed spices and gossamer silk, necklaces of rubies and bracelets of pearl and sapphire, emerald-studded slippers and abalone-shell earrings, the pelts and claws of cold-weather creatures, and a seemingly endless stream of preserved flowers and fruit from faraway lands. Tsehai smiled and thanked them all politely, but her eyes lit up when the handsome young sultan from Liliputa presented her with a cyclone in a glass jar, harvested from the clouds surrounding his city, and he was followed by the warrior queen of the Oromo River Nation, who made her a gift of a panther cub, sleek and black as night with a golden chain around its neck.

“He’s beautiful,” Tsehai said, dreamy-eyed. The cub sniffed at her feet. “What’s your name?”

“Naia,” the queen said. She was tall and lean and copper-skinned, with a tangle of red hair shaved along the sides and held back by a circlet of ivy and moonstone. Rings of carved fishbone dangled from her ears and nose. “I am pleased to have pleased you, Your Highness.” Aysha already disliked both her and the sultan – his eyes were hard, and her smile sly. Neither of them was to be trusted.

When the last of the tribute had been brought before them, King Yekuno clapped his hands, and a gaggle of servants materialized. “Take this to the princess’s chambers and escort our guests to their quarters,” he ordered. To the suitors: “All of you, please. Take the time to rest before the banquet tonight. You’ve come a long way to be here.” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they bowed, for the throne room was sweltering, and he caught Aysha’s eye as the rest began to disperse. “ _Fitawrari._ ”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“My daughter would like an escort to walk the Harmony Gardens until she needs to prepare for tonight. Go with her.”

Aysha bowed, glad the mask hid whatever lingering irritation might have shown on her face. Normally there was no need for an escort while on palace grounds – typically a job reserved for one of Tsehai’s chambermaids, not the captain of the guard – but things were different with the suitors there, and each with their own custom besides. Most likely the king wanted to be sure no one approached her unchaperoned. Tsehai leaned back and smiled up at her, silvery lashes translucent in the sunlight.

“Shall we?”

*****

Before his untimely death, King Yekuno’s husband Demetros had been an avid horticulturist and scholar as well as a warrior, believing that balance of the spirit was necessary to experience life to its fullest; upon his passing, the king ordered that his garden be expanded and cared for, to preserve his memory. It took up a sizeable portion of the central grounds now, an endlessly blooming menagerie of specimens built around a waterlily pond, and as children Aysha and Tsehai used to chase frogs and fish there during the summers. They were crossing the bridge that arced from one side to the other when Tsehai stopped in the middle and turned west, facing the palace.

“What a strange day,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You prepare for something your entire life, and then it happens and it doesn’t feel real, even though it’s happening right in front of you.” She’d brought the panther cub along, freed of his leash, and he was busy gamboling in the shadows, chasing the jewel-toned fish that scattered whenever he pounced. “I knew that Eskos was prosperous, and that an alliance with us would benefit many nations, but all these people, these gifts, knowing I have to choose one of them to marry in only a few days…” She trailed off. “I must sound spoiled to you right now.”

“I understand what you mean.” Aysha leaned against the railing, weathered wood digging into her elbows. “That was how I felt when I got my crest.” It still didn’t feel real sometimes. On good days, she half-expected to wake up in the servant’s quarters to discover that the last sixteen years had been nothing but a dream and she was still the lonely orphaned child she’d always been. Tsehai nodded, looking relieved, and joined her at the rail. Neither of them said anything for some time. It was a shame it couldn’t always be like this, Aysha thought, eyelids heavy in the heat. Dragonflies the size of small birds skimmed the pond’s surface. Not even marriage, not even lovers, but just the two of them, together in all things. To spend her life at her princess’s side would be enough. But if Tsehai chose someone who wanted to take her away –

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Aysha straightened up, bridge creaking beneath her feet. “Just thinking.”

“That must have been some thought.”

Aysha didn’t rise to it. “We should get you back to your chambers,” she said. “It’ll be time to dress for the banquet soon.” Something inscrutable flickered across Tsehai’s face, like a cloud blotting out the sun, but then it was gone and she linked arms with Aysha like they were girls once more, beaming.

“There I go, losing track of time again. Whatever would I do without you?”

*****

The welcome banquet for the suitors wasn’t lavish, as that particular honor was reserved for the engagement feast, but it was held on the pavilion, fairy lights hovering overhead and a waterfall trickling in the background. Long tables lined both sides, piled high with sour flatbread, greens and rabbit stew and surrounded by pitchers of wine and cold citrus water to wash it all down. A band of musicians played a sweet tune in the corner, and laughter filled the air. The Kebur ringed the gathering in pairs, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings, and Tsehai flitted between handfuls of people, lively in yellow with eucalyptus flowers in her hair. She talked to everyone, smiling and listening but never staying long in one place. Through the crowd, Aysha caught a glimpse of the handsome sultan from earlier, lingering by Tsehai at the table. He said something in her ear that made her laugh, lifting her hand to his lips. A ribbon of dancers blocked them from view, and behind her mask, Aysha gritted her teeth. Though her face was hidden, there must have been something to her posture, because Bruk cleared his throat.

“Is something wrong, _Fitawrari_?”

“No.” She forced herself to relax. “Everything’s fine.” Bruk knew her well enough not to believe her, she suspected, but he nodded and returned his attention to the crowd. She did the same, silently chiding herself. Now was not the time to lose focus – what if one of the suitors turned out to be a spy, or an assassin? She’d never forgive herself for not catching it in time.

The tempo of the music suddenly changed, the _krar_ and _atamo_ weaving a tender melody as the center of the pavilion cleared, and much of the chatter began to die, eyes flickering toward Tsehai. She stepped forward, and the tide of bodies receded. Something clenched in Aysha’s chest, like a fist folded around her heart. _Not them._ Not Naia the River Queen, not the young sultan. As long as Tsehai chose anyone but them for her first dance – for her favored suitor – she could make it through this. She could carry on, if it wasn’t them. She watched Tsehai move. She was so busy watching that she didn’t realize Tsehai was headed in her direction until the princess was in front of her, halting mere inches away. Her pulse jumped when she saluted.

“Your Highness.”

“ _Fitawrari_.” Tsehai’s eyes gleamed. She wore no jewelry, save the earrings Aysha had gifted her, slender throat and wrists bare. “How does the evening find you?”

“Well, thank you,” Aysha said politely, confused. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, actually.” Tsehai held out her hand. “Dance with me.”

Aysha sighed. On some level she’d expected this, but it didn’t make it any less disappointing. “Be serious, Your Highness.”

“I _am_ being serious. Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

A few feet to her right, Bruk coughed. The crowd’s attention was shifting, more faces turning their way by the second, and the king was in the thick of it, examining them thoughtfully with his one good eye. The back of Aysha’s neck prickled. “Now isn’t the time to try and make a statement,” she said. “Go, choose your suitor. People are starting to talk.”

Tsehai dropped her hand, expression frosting over. Aysha knew that look. She didn’t get mad often, not truly, but when she did, she turned cold as a river in mid-winter. “Fine.” She was gone in a whirl of yellow and silver, and Aysha shook her head as she watched Tsehai grab the arm of the nearest person – an enormous lord who looked more like a mountain in formal dress than a man – and lead him to the center of the pavilion, head held high. Bruk scratched the back of his neck.

“That was bold of you.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter.”

“I’m just saying. I would have danced with the princess.”

“Close your mouth until you have something useful to say, then,” Aysha snapped, and fixed him with a glare through the eye slits in her mask until he raised his hands in surrender and fell silent. Tsehai danced until the moon was full and the starseed flowers blossomed, stalks swaying in time to the music. She danced with the mountain Lord twice and Naia and the sultan three times apiece, until everyone else was worn thin and she was the only one left dancing. She didn’t look at Aysha once.

*****

The following morning dawned breezy and mild, as if to atone for the previous day’s heat, and Aysha woke in a much better mood than the one that had possessed her at night. Today would be different, she told herself as she bathed and groomed, oiling her freshly-shorn scalp. She’d been irritated with Tsehai, yes, irritated at being treated like a joke, at her refusal to take things seriously, but these were their last few days before everything changed, and she didn’t want to spend them sulking. She wasn’t even that rankled anymore, if she was being honest – familiarity was familiarity when your world was shifting around you.

But Tsehai had no use for her that morning, barely sparing her a glance when she entered the hall. She’d seated herself between Naia and Zarif (Aysha had finally learned his name from one of her guards) and was showing them the right way to eat _enqulal_ while the rest of the nearby suitors tried to steal her attention with limited success. There was an empty seat on the bench next to the king, and he beckoned her to sit, his eye roaming across her face.

“Good morning, _Fitawrari._ Have some _gul._ ”

“Please.” She helped herself to some, then passed the dish to one of the stable boys, who handed it to E’lani further down. No matter your title or rank, everyone sat and broke bread together to begin the day. “I trust you slept well?”

“As well as I can sleep with so many strangers in my palace,” Yekuno said dryly. “Luckily for me, diplomacy has always been my daughter’s strong suit.” From the other end of the table, Tsehai’s laughter rang out. Aysha forced a smile.

After breakfast, there was a flurry to clear the tables and get the dishes clean – the Games would start soon, and nobody wanted to miss them. Even Aysha found herself moving briskly, buoyed along by the anticipation filling in the air. Already the road to the arena was packed: farmers, merchants, villagers, fisherfolk, nobles, priests and healers alike had come to watch, and more travelers were arriving by the minute, hundreds of voices building to an excited roar.

The second day of the festival was the Games. They had another name once, but it fell out of use, for the people found it unnecessary. What other games were there? Nothing so highly anticipated as the spectacular set-up on the palace grounds, where all were welcome to watch suitors compete for royal favor to prove their worth. Aysha looked out across the patchwork expanse of green to the sandstone arena rising in the distance, and wondered why Tsehai was upset with her. She’d been trying not to worry about it, but the thought was still there, like a pebble in her sandal. So she hadn’t gone along with Tsehai’s attempt at generating a scandal. Did that mean she deserved to be ignored? That it was necessary to flirt and fawn over near-strangers in front of her? And honestly, it was just like Tsehai, to turn everything into a joke, to play at rebellion and not even _consider_ that if she’d asked Aysha to dance and meant it –

 _Enough._ She closed her eyes and tugged her mask low over her face. Sometimes it was too hot in the summer months, but today she was grateful for the anonymity. There would be time to dwell, later.

Later.

Later, when Tsehai was married or gone and never asked her to dance again.

Inside the arena, up in the awning-covered box at the top of the stand, Tsehai sat in her chair, a few of the suitors gathered in front of her and the panther cub on her lap. Today’s dress was orange, to match the crown of fragrant kosso flowers atop her head, and her hands darted like expressive little sparrows, her teeth flashing white against her skin. Aysha gazed at her helplessly from the bottom of the stairs, and she waved.

“ _Fitawrari!_ Come here, I need you.”

She could have refused, but it didn’t matter. She’d always been powerless when those three words fell from Tsehai’s lips. She was the same height as most of the suitors, if not taller, and she was gratified to see a couple of them draw back as she approached. The mountain Lord Tsehai had danced with the previous night was there as well, towering over the others, and there was open disdain in his eyes as he looked her over. She looked past him. “What’s the problem, Your Highness?”

“Is it true?” another of the princes asked. He was thin and stooped, his eyes anxious – Prince Perrin, if she recalled correctly, from the coastal kingdom of Nepenthe. Or was it Percival? She hadn’t put much effort into learning everyone’s names. “This White Boar, is it real?”

“A demon boar the size of a stallion,” the mountain Lord said, and scoffed. “No disrespect meant to your Highness, but how are we to believe such a creature exists?”

“You see?” Tsehai folded her arms and tried to look put-upon, even as her eyes danced. “They don’t believe me.”

Aysha gave her a look, half-exasperated and half-fond. “The boar is real, but most of the stories are exaggerated. It’s no demon. Just a bad-tempered pig that has yet to be captured.”

“A pig with a body count,” Tsehai said.

“Daughter,” a deep voice admonished, and everyone took a step back as King Yekuno joined the conversation. He was dressed simply, with little decoration but the thin gold circlet wrapped around his brow. He had no need of it. His presence spoke for itself, a commanding elegance that radiated despite his plain clothes and short stature. “I hope you’re not toying with our guests unduly.”

“Just sharing some of the local culture.” Tsehai smiled, all innocence. “I thought they might find it interesting.”

“I see.” Yekuno’s gaze flickered across the men. “The first event starts soon. Please, excuse us. I would speak with my daughter alone.” A polite dismissal, but a firm one. The suitors retreated.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t frighten them off,” Tsehai said, lounging back in her woven chair as he sat down beside her. The cub climbed out of her lap to explore the box, winding around her ankles. “I appreciate the help, even if you did make it sound boring.” She smiled lazily at Aysha, who tried to smile back and found that she couldn’t. She bowed instead, throat tight.

“I’ll leave you to your conversation. Excuse me.”

“Aysha,” Tsehai said, sitting up.

“Excuse me,” Aysha said again, and turned away.

“Smart, that one,” she heard Yekuno murmur as she headed for the stairs. “Responsible, too. It’s a shame that never rubbed off on you.” She was too far away to hear Tsehai’s answer by then, but whatever it was, it came out as an indignant hiss. It made her feel better, but only just, then not at all.

*****

“ _Go! Go! Go!_ ” someone screamed, shrill over the commotion, and sweat trickled down Aysha’s spine as Naia crossed the finish line in a cloud of red dust, hair streaming behind her like a banner. The horn sounded, only to be smothered by cheers. The river queen jogged back to the starting line, grinning as her defeated opponents trailed behind her.

“Goods gods but she’s fast,” Imani said from Aysha’s right, admiring. “I’ve never seen anyone run like that.”

“How’s she not tired? That’s what I want to know.” To her left, Bruk scratched his ear. “That has to be her third win in a row.”

Aysha grunted. “Will you two be quiet?” The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, guarding the stairs that led to where Tsehai and Yekuno sat, high above the rest of the crowd. Occasionally she felt eyes on her back, but she refused to turn and look. It wasn’t proper. “She’s not that fast. Mamuya is faster.”

“Mamuya wishes he were that fast.” Imani glanced at her, a quick twitch of her head. “Are you alright? You seem… agitated.”

“I’m not agitated,” Aysha said through her teeth.

“Are you sure?” Bruk leaned in a bit. “Is it because of what happened with the pri – “

“Finish that sentence, _Shalaqa_ , and you _will_ regret it.” She turned her attention back to the arena floor. “Now, focus. We have a job to do.”

The Games had been going all morning, and it was well into the afternoon now, fat clouds scudding across the blue. Aysha hadn’t been born yet for the last festival, and when she was younger she’d dreamt of competing in the Games; under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed herself. There were races, both on foot and in chariots, archery and swordsmanship, acrobatics, discus, wrestling, and various other contests of strength and skill, each suitor striving to show off their prowess while coin changed hands in the stands. The winner of the most games would be presented with a ceremonial wreath of meskel daisies by the princess herself, as was tradition, and the competition was fierce – it was no longer just each suitor’s pride at stake, but the pride of their nations as well, and nobody wanted to come in last. Queen Naia dominated the foot races, fleet as a gazelle; Zarif’s skill with a bow was unparalleled; and there were others too, a king from a land of golden fields who’d been riding and taming horses since he was born and an emperor’s heir who could slice a feather down the center in mid-air with his throwing knives. Passions rode high, but everything ground to a halt when the mountain lord took to the ring.

His name, Aysha had learned throughout the course of the games, was Lord Isthmus, and Tsehai’s careless selection of him for her first dance had emboldened him to the point of buffoonery. Upon defeating his first opponent, he’d stood in the center of the ring and stripped away his damp tunic, bellowing in invitation to all comers. Many a man was eager to meet that challenge, but it soon became clear that Isthmus hadn’t issued it lightly. No matter who stepped up to meet him, he couldn’t be displaced. One by one the suitors clashed with him, circling and growling and grappling in the dirt, but in the end it was always the other who was thrown from the ring and left to lick his wounds. A hush had fallen over the crowd by then, the cheers dying down, and Isthmus threw his arms wide to address them, powerful chest and bald head gleaming with sweat. He was breathing hard.

“Is there no one here capable of facing me? Nobody to present a real challenge?” A few bold souls jeered, but most of the people simply looked at one another, discomfited. The Games were meant to demonstrate one’s prowess, but that was what they were – games, to be enjoyed. Isthmus cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to Tsehai, who watched him intently from her seat as she fanned herself with a banana frond. “Princess! If these men are not worthy of even me, how can they be worthy of you?”

A ripple of outrage spread through the suitors, peppered with gasps from the stands. A few of them even tried to shove forward, but the guards held them back. Bruk made a low noise of dissent, and Imani shook her head. Aysha remained still, waiting. To her surprise, it was Prince Perrin who stepped forward, long face pinched in anger.

“It’s not for you to decide who is and isn’t worthy of Princess Tsehai, Isthmus.”

“Get in here and face me then,” the mountain lord said, cracking his knuckles. Perrin stumbled back into the throng of suitors, most of whom turned from him in disgust, and Isthmus sneered at them, even as Naia tried to climb over the guards to get at him. “Pathetic.”

“Enough of this,” Aysha said, and stripped off her mask. It was like moving in a dream. She heard the surprised inhales on either side of her, saw the ripple of faces and bodies turning toward her, but her world had narrowed to the man before her as she strode into the arena. “Lord Isthmus!” Had someone called her name from the stands, or was she imagining things? “Your conduct is unacceptable. You will comport yourself with dignity and apologize, or you will face me.”

Surprise flashed across his face – she caught it in the arch of his brows and the tightening of his mouth – but then it settled and he grinned, beckoning. “Kebur Zabagna? You’ll do.”

Aysha set her mask and spear at the edge of the ring. They were followed by her heavy chest plate and padded tunic, leaving her in her linen breastband and loose breeches. The fresh air kissed her skin, and she breathed deep, rolling her shoulders. “When I win,” she said, “you will also apologize to her Highness for your presumptuousness.”

“Her Highness chose me for her first dance,” Isthmus said. “You don’t speak for her.”

Aysha stepped into the ring.

As soon as she crossed the line carved into the dirt, he sprang at her, clearly intending to catch her off-guard. He was fast for a man his size, but she was faster, ducking inside his reach and past his grasping hands to let his momentum carry him past. _Let them do the work._ Gedeyon, the palace’s old master-at-arms, had said that to her often during her training. He’d taught her the value of using her opponent’s strength and speed against them, and she used it now, turning away his second blow and sending him stumbling to the ground. He tried to straighten up and she took his legs out from under him with a well-placed sweep, clouds of fine dust billowing as he went down again. This time, though, he was more prepared and she was a hair too slow; his hand shot out and grabbed her ankle, dragging her down with him. She tried to kick him off but he was strong, fingers like iron, and then he was on her and they were grappling in the center of the ring and all she could hear was his ragged breathing in her ears and the swelling roar of the crowd.

She dug her heels in, trying for purchase, but he got both arms around her middle and _heaved_ , and big as she was, she still went tumbling over his shoulder and hit the dirt, rolling onto her side. The edge of the ring taunted her from inches away. She scrambled into a crouch and launched herself at him, and he braced himself to meet her halfway, hands locking around each other’s forearms. Every muscle in her body screamed. Little by little, the ground beneath her sandals gave, and he pushed her backwards, closer and closer to defeat. She gritted her teeth and strained, shoving back against him, but he was relentless, his deep-set eyes boring into hers with a furious triumph. Her foot began to slip.

_Let them do the work._

One final, futile burst of resistance, and then, without warning, she let go. Isthmus lost his footing, stumbling forward, and Aysha dropped flat on her back and kicked up with both legs, hard as she could. The effect was two-fold – his momentum, combined with hers, was swift and merciless, and with a roar, the mountain lord sailed over her head and out of the ring.

It was like an earthquake, she would think later, alone in the dark of her chamber. For a moment she thought the mountains themselves were moving, but it was the people, chanting and stomping in victory. She stared up at the sky, gulping in huge, burning breaths, and then she got to her feet. Isthmus lay only a few feet from her, and her shadow fell across his face when she stood over him, mask and spear in hand.

“There is no room in Eskos for a ruler who would humiliate his competitors, or his subjects, in such a manner,” she said. “You’d do well to reflect on that.”

Isthmus turned his head and spat in the dirt, refusing to meet her eyes. She left him there and turned to face the stands, shielding her eyes with her hand. She didn’t see the suitors trying to get her attention or Zarif’s cold eyes, didn’t see Imani and Bruk hurrying to meet her. All she saw was Tsehai, on her feet like the rest of the crowd, clutching the barrier and smiling wide. Beside her, Yekuno remained seated, but when Aysha dared to glance at him, he met her gaze and gave her a ghost of a nod.

“What was that?” Imani took her elbow and pulled her aside. “It was well done, if we’re being honest, but you know we aren’t allowed to interfere in the Games – “

“His conduct was unbecoming for a potential consort to the queen.” Aysha shrugged her off, sliding her mask back into place. “That, and his bragging was tiresome.”

Her _shalaqa_ exchanged glances, and Bruk scratched his ear, glancing up into the stands. “The princess looks happy.”

“She does,” Imani agreed.

“Guess she didn’t like him that much after all.”

Aysha’s blood thrummed. She would be given no wreaths, but she didn’t need them. Not in that moment, when she felt like she could spring into the sky and pluck the sun like a piece of ripe fruit. “I guess not,” she said.

*****

It rained over the next two days, but the celebration carried on unabated – the people of Eskos would hold a festival in the eye of a hurricane, or so the saying went. Aysha didn’t see much of Tsehai during that time. Those were the Planting Days, where she spent her hours with each of the suitors, one by one, so they might share custom and begin to know one another. It was the Planting Days that had solidified Yekuno’s decision to marry Demetros, and so Aysha found ways to stay busy. She ran drills in the downpour, polished her weapons and armor to a gleam, and composed new ways to improve palace security, though most of them were unnecessary. She even dug out her old lyre and plucked away at it when she was alone in her quarters, rusty as she was. Anything to keep herself occupied. She only glimpsed Tsehai a handful of times during those two days, at breakfast or walking the gardens with an escort and one of her suitors, her parasol shielding her from the drizzle. They’d never gone that long without talking to each other, and in Aysha’s dreams that night she was small again and the palace fountain a marble giant before her, overflowing with cool green water. She sat on its edge and wept.

“ _Why are you crying?”_

Aysha scrambled to her feet, sniffling. _“Princess?”_

Tsehai bounced on the balls of her feet. Not even yet six and she was already a precocious little thing who liked to wander on her own, all big dark eyes in her cherub’s face and silver curls like their own crown. She blinked up at Aysha curiously, repeated herself.  _“Why are you crying?”_

 _“My mother. She got sick, and then my father got sick too, and they…”_ Her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She sank onto the stone. _“The yellow fever took them.”_ It had taken a lot of people in her village that summer. She started crying again, and Tsehai squatted in front of her.

 _“Your family is gone?”_ Aysha nodded, scrubbing at her eyes, and Tsehai frowned, mulling this over. _“Do you have to leave too?”_

 _“I don’t know.”_ She hadn’t thought about it. There was no one to take her in, no one who even knew who she was outside the palace. _“I don’t want to.”_

 _“You have to stay,”_ Tsehai insisted, grabbing Aysha’s fingers with her chubby little hands. _“They can’t take you. You have to stay!”_ She was sort of shimmering now, the way someone’s reflection shimmered on the water, and the scene shifted around them. They were older now, Aysha sitting with her back against one of the fig trees in the garden while Tsehai knelt in front of her, white roses twined into her hair. _“You have to stay,”_ she said, and plucked one to place behind Aysha’s ear, fingertips lingering on her cheek. _“I’d miss you too much if you went.”_

_“Where else would I go?”_

_“I don’t know. Anywhere you wanted.”_

Aysha was silent, reaching up to touch the edge of one of the rose petals. It came loose in her hand. _“Do you remember what you said to me that day?”_ She didn’t say which day. It was a dream, it was a memory. It didn’t matter. Tsehai smiled, and the scene shimmered again, dissolving all around her.

_“I’m your family now. Okay?”_

When she woke, there was something wet on her cheek. For a horrible moment she thought she’d been crying in her sleep, but then she heard the rain. She shut her window and sat in bed, listening to it patter against the palace roof. For years, all she’d wanted was to repay them for taking her in; she’d dreamt of becoming commander of the guard, to show but a fraction of the devotion she felt. But now –

But now.

She buried her head in her hands, pressing in until galaxies swirled behind her eyes. Now she wanted things she had no right to want, and devotion itself no longer seemed like enough. Maybe it never had been. Maybe she’d been this selfish all along. She lay back down, arms folded over her stomach, and waited with her eyes closed, trying not to think of white roses. Sleep didn’t come to reclaim her for a long time.

*****

When the Planting Days were over, the air grew thick with anticipation, and the day of the Hunt dawned clear and grey-dove-pink, the earth below still muddy from the rain.

“Good for tracks,” Naia said, her voice carrying from the other end of the table. “There’s bound to be some excellent sport today. I can feel it.”

“Indeed,” Zarif said. He still wore his crown of meskel daisies, seemingly oblivious to the envy of the others but for the satisfied smile at the corner of his mouth. “What sort of game can we expect?”

“Gazelles, oxen, squirrels, mole-rats, boars, that sort of thing,” Tsehai said absently, twisting her napkin in her lap. She’d been unusually quiet that morning. “Birds too, but don’t kill any of the ibis, should you see one. They’re good luck.”

Zarif inclined his head, and the light hit his strange pale eyes. “The ox I bring you will feed everyone here for a week.”

Not to be outdone, the rest of the suitors joined in, eager to share that they too would have a worthy contribution to the engagement feast (with the exception of Lord Isthmus, who was conspicuously absent following his defeat). Around and around they went, each one trying to out-do the last, and Aysha ate, only half-listening until Zarif said something else and Perrin’s irritated voice cut through the din.

“If you’re so confident, why not go after something that presents a real challenge?”

“Such as?” Zarif asked, eerily soft, and Perrin waved his hand in impatient dismissal, spooning up his food with the other.

“Track down the White Boar the princess spoke of and slay that. A beast of such repute should prove a satisfactory hunt for one as skilled as you.”

“The boar is nothing to jest about,” Yekuno said. He didn’t raise his voice, but his words cut through the remaining conversation like hot steel. “More than a few skilled warriors have gone after it and never returned.”

“Broke up a hunting party in the lowlands last week,” Mamuya said, stirring his _qinch’e._ He was the newest member of the Kebur Zabagna, a taciturn man of few words and perpetually solemn eyes, like he was burdened with things the rest of them couldn’t see. Maybe he was, for all anyone knew – his grandfather was one of the Council. “Wounded three of us and ran off with a dozen arrows in its hide. Probably still there.”

“A pig is a pig,” Naia said, and the knife-throwing heir from the day before snorted, turning to look at her.

“You really think you can accomplish something their best hunters and trackers couldn’t?”

Naia bared her teeth. It was almost a smile. “There are hunters, and then there are the Oromo.”

“Please,” Tsehai said. “Don’t bicker.”

“Nonsense,” Zarif said calmly. “I will slay the beast. The princess deserves someone who can accomplish that much, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Now listen here,” the knife-thrower said, and Naia all but growled. “The princess – “

“The princess can speak for herself, thank you.” Tsehai crumpled her napkin and stood, dropping it on her plate. “And I’ve decided that I’ll marry whoever slays the White Boar.” Aysha choked mid-sip on her tea, and across from her the king jolted, eyebrows crawling up to his hairline. The rest stared, momentarily stunned into silence.

“Daughter – “

“I’ve made up my mind,” Tsehai said. She was looking straight at Aysha now, unblinking, like she was afraid to look anywhere else. “The beast has plagued our countryside for too long. If anyone here can put it down, that’s the person I choose to marry.” Aysha sat paralyzed, rigid in her seat with her tongue fat and useless in her mouth. _Say something,_ she needed to _say_ something, but the words wouldn’t come, and Tsehai turned away, bowing to her father. “Please, excuse me.”

As soon as she was gone, the hall erupted into astonished chatter, washing over Aysha in waves of meaningless noise until Naia banged her goblet against the table to quiet everyone. “Silence!” She looked to Yekuno. “Answer me truly. Can it be done?”

“The question you should ask is not ‘can it be done’, but rather, ‘do the gods will it?’” Yekuno refilled his goblet, stone-faced, and raised it. All down the table, his subjects followed suit. “Once my daughter has made up her mind, only the gods themselves can sway her, so I suggest you hope they do, in fact, will it.” He took a sip, and Aysha looked around, seeing greedy throats and hungry eyes as the suitors drank, salivating over a prize now just out of reach. Her hand tightened around the stem of her own goblet, and Yekuno met her gaze, level and knowing.

“Happy hunting,” he said.

*****

Outside the palace walls, the path to the lowlands waited, cloaked by a fine mist where it slithered between the pines. It was a fine tradition, the Hunt; it would last until nightfall, and those who had mounts were forced to soothe them, for they already had the scent of blood in their nostrils. The sky was still overcast, but the air was pleasantly cool and visibility was good. From her position behind a nearby sycamore, Aysha watched the growing throng. Some of the suitors wore armor, leather or bone or iron, while others carried only their weapons – swords, bows, even a trident and a weighted net – preferring to rely on speed and stealth over direct engagement. The Games had been light-hearted and full of friendly competition, but the atmosphere had changed that afternoon. There were only tense faces and hooves-paws-boots churning the muck as everyone jockeyed for position, and in those final few seconds it seemed as though the world itself was holding its breath, and Aysha did too, her fingers digging into the bark – and then the horn sounded, drums pounding, and thirty-odd bodies surged forward at once in a mighty wave, crashing and spilling out onto the road to flood the forest in all directions. Aysha breathed through her nose until her heart slowed and she saw the tail end of the last horse vanish into the trees. Then she slung her spear over her shoulder and melted into the brush, heading south.

It was madness, what she was doing. Madness to think, to _hope_ , that even if she did pull it off, she would face reward instead of punishment. But she’d grown up in the lowlands, knew every inch of them like she knew the landscape of her own body, and the memory of Tsehai’s eyes urged her feet onward. Naia had been right; the damp earth was good for tracking. She’d been traveling for less than an hour when she saw the first sign of the boar. One deep hoofprint by the riverbank, near the size of a horse but cloven, and further down there was an elm with the bark scraped off its middle and deep gouges in the wood. It had passed through not long ago, judging from the clarity of the print, and Aysha’s heart swelled with something like cautious hope. She carried on.

The boar had followed the river, and so she followed the boar, careful to stick to the dappling shadows. Pyracantha grew wild and fragrant this time of year, its branches dripping with scarlet berries, and the local wildlife considered it a delicacy; she found half-eaten and trampled clusters along the path, red smears in the dirt. The trail ended just outside a copse of alpines, and when she peered through the trees she saw a deserted clearing, long blue sweetgrass waving in the breeze. No sign of animal life, save a handful of butterflies bumbling about, but the skin on the back of her neck grew tight. Her hand closed around the neck of her spear. A branch snapped behind her.

“I knew you were up to something,” Zarif said when she whirled to face him, dropping into a defensive stance. He had an arrow strung loosely across his bow, not aiming it at anything in particular, but the look in his eyes belied his casual stance. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s not yours to know,” Aysha said. Neither of them moved. “You should be on the Hunt.”

“Oh, I am. And I think you are too.” Zarif’s gaze slid past her, and she realized he was checking the clearing. “I think you mean to slay the White Boar, and claim the princess for yourself.”

“She’s not a thing to claim!” Aysha snapped, bristling, and Zarif’s handsome face contorted briefly before he smoothed it over, blank and cold.

“You speak above your station.”

“You overstep your bounds as a guest in this country.” Aysha’s spine prickled. He was far enough away to have the advantage, and she’d seen his marksmanship. There was little chance he’d miss. He must have seen it too, because his mouth flickered into a smile, thin as a knife’s edge.

“Perhaps. But when I leave, it will be with Princess Tsehai accompanying me.”

“I would rather die than see that happen,” she told him honestly, and he shrugged one elegant shoulder, smile vanishing.

“Have it your way, then.”

It was pure instinct that saved her. She dove behind a tree a heartbeat before the arrow flew from his bow, and the familiar _whistle-thunk_ of iron biting into wood echoed behind her. Quietly, before a second one came, she slipped away, deeper into the grove.

“Will you come out and face me?” Zarif’s voice sounded from somewhere to her right, faintly mocking. “Or will you make me hunt you, too?” He was waiting for her to slip up, she could tell, listening for the slightest noise to send his next shot in her direction. But she’d grown up here, learned how to climb trees to chase after lemurs and how to step as light as a gazelle, and she flattened herself against one of the alpines, clutching her spear. “I’m a reasonable man, you know.” He was moving in her direction, his voice growing louder. “If you promise not interfere, there’s no reason this needs to end badly.”

Aysha waited, ears straining against the silence. Could he hear the rhythm of her breathing, her angry heartbeat? It felt loud enough to fill the forest – _there_! The faintest squelch as his boots sank into the mud, and the next sound was the blunt crack of the butt of her spear meeting his forehead, poleaxing him. He crumpled without a sound, and she flipped the spear around and cut his bowstring with a flick of her blade, then kicked it away from him. She was panting, but not with exhaustion. It felt like there was lightning in her veins.

“I’m sorry this couldn’t end reasonably,” she said.

*****

When she stepped into the clearing, the White Boar waited for her.

*****

She’d had a dream like this when she was younger, once. She’d dreamt about being a hero of old, roaming the land and saving fair maidens and city-states from monstrous creatures, and she ran through jungles and explored ancient ruins and swam in salty oceans until she came to a place she’d never been before. It was an island, and there was a tree in its center, heavy with golden figs. She’d picked one, and as soon as its stem snapped, the earth shook beneath her feet, and she knew with a dreaded certainty that she’d awoken something terrible. She’d turned to face it, and then she’d been awake and the dream was over, but it had left her with the lingering impression of something impossible, something that shouldn’t exist.

 _No boar should be this big,_ she thought dumbly now, staring across the field. It raised its head and sniffed the air, enormous tusks curving from its jaws to wicked points. Berry pulp and juice stained its snout, and its tail cracked like a whip, beady eyes locking onto hers. It was near the size of a full-grown man, even on all fours, its coarse white pelt littered with the aftermath of a hundred battles. Unblinking, she shifted her grip on her spear, centering it, and the boar let out an aggrieved grunt. The air smelled sweet when it pawed at the grass. She mimicked its motions, squaring her shoulders, and the boar lowered its enormous head and drove its tusks into the ground. Mud and grass flew in all directions as it shook its jowls and let out an ear-splitting roar.

“Come on, then!” Aysha screamed, and birds shot out of the nearby trees in a flurry of wings, cawing in alarm. The boar charged. She met it in the middle at a dead run, spear poised to strike, and the dance began.

The boar was old and cunning, and desperate – he had survived a long time. But Aysha was desperate too, and she fought like she’d never fought before, her blood singing beneath her skin. She dodged its tusks as they rent the air a hand’s width from her skin and rolled, her spear opening a shallow cut along its side. The boar wheeled, and she was forced to throw herself backwards, away from its trampling hooves. It came for her again, and she jabbed at its face with her spear, trying to ward it off. It let out a horrible snorting squeal and gnashed its teeth, the point of the blade glancing off its tusks, and then she was on the defensive again, backing away. They circled, then clashed once more; spear locked with tusk, each grappling to throw the other, and Aysha gritted her teeth and dug in with the balls of her feet, twisting the shaft of the spear until the boar was forced to one side, forelegs starting to fold. She bore down, but her footing wasn’t as sure as it could have been, and with a wrench of its neck, the spear was torn from her grasp and flung halfway across the clearing, sending her toppling to the ground. She scrambled after it on her hands and knees, trying to get enough traction to run, and the boar heaved itself to its feet and came after her again, baying. She got her hands on it and twisted just in time to block a blow from those vicious tusks, her arms shaking on impact.

For a second, the world narrowed to a stalemate, and there was perfect silence. Then the boar reared its head back and smashed into the shaft once more, and her spear cracked in half like so much kindling.

There was no time to get to her feet. She scuttled backwards awkwardly, still holding half the spear, sliding in the muddy grass, and the boar kept coming, its breath hot and foul in the air between them. She jabbed and snarled, slashing at it indiscriminately with her broken blade, and still it kept coming and then a sharp whistle split the air and an arrow sprouted out of its left eye in a spurt of blood, its red-feathered shaft quavering.

The noise it made was indescribable. Aysha scrambled until her back hit the sturdy trunk of an evergreen, clutching the remainder of her weapon to her chest. The boar shrieked and frothed, shaking its head wildly, and then it staggered and collided with a nearby pine before crashing off into the brush, thick black ooze running down its face. She stared at the trampled earth and spattered blood, heart pounding. Then, she heard footsteps.

“Aysha!”

Tsehai came running into view, quiver and bow slung over her shoulder. She was wearing breeches and a loose tunic belted haphazardly around her waist, her braids tied back, and she dashed across the clearing to kneel in front of Aysha, distress scrawled all over her face. “Thank the gods I found you in time. Are you alright?”

“Fine, I’m fine – what are you doing?” Aysha exhaled, trying to breathe normally. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Neither are you!” Tsehai said fiercely, and her lips trembled, turning down at the corners. “You _idiot._ What were you thinking? You could have died!”

Unbidden, a chuckle rose to Aysha’s lips. She tried to swallow it, but it turned into a full-blown laugh instead. She put her hand over her eyes and laughed, slumping back in the cradle of tree roots while Tsehai balled her fists in her lap.

“You’re laughing. _Why are you laughing_?”

Aysha let her head fall back against the bark, still grinning. Her face hurt. “The princess rescued me,” she said. “That’s never how it goes in the stories.”

“And it’s a damn good thing I did,” Tsehai said. “What could have possibly possessed you to do something so stupid? That’s not like you at all. That’s like… well, like me, which is what makes it so concerning.”

Aysha snorted before she could stop herself. “Isn’t it obvious?” Tsehai stared at her, eyebrows raised expectantly. “I couldn’t let you marry him. Zarif. I know I can’t stop you, if that’s what you want, but – “

“Of course I don’t want to marry Zarif! I don’t want to marry any of them! I just said that to buy myself some time, I didn’t think you’d actually take me seriously – “

“What do you mean, you thought I wouldn’t take you seriously?”

“Why would you take me seriously? You never do! You turned me down when I asked you to dance, you – “

“Only because _you_ don’t take anything seriously!” Aysha snapped. Then the rest of Tsehai’s words caught up with her. “I… I did what?”

“You turned me down in front of everyone. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?”

Aysha gaped at her. There were too many things she could have said, and all of them crowded her tongue, clamoring to be freed. In the end, she settled on, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried! I’ve _been_ trying, but it’s impossible with all these people here. Every time I turn around, there’s someone new breathing down my neck, or it seems like you’re avoiding me, and I hate it. It’s been miserable without you.” Tsehai put a hand on her knee, palm warm through her breeches. It was a simple thing, like so many of their other little touches throughout the years, but it felt different somehow. Her skin tingled. “I’m sorry I’ve been a pain. I miss you, Aya.”

Aysha realized she was still holding half a spear. She set it aside. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“I suppose I’ve been a bit of an idiot too,” Tsehai said. “But I’m trying to fix that now. Which is why I wanted to tell you what I’ve been trying to get at this whole time.” Her fingers touched the back of Aysha’s hand, an unspoken question. “It’s you I want to marry. Not them. Just you.”

Aysha’s first instinct was to laugh again, half out of sheer giddiness and half out of disbelief. She forced it down with some difficulty. “You want to – “

“ _Yes_ ,” Tsehai said, fervent.

“Me,” Aysha said. “ _You_ want to marry _me_.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” Tsehai crossed her arms, but she looked more nervous than anything, throat bobbing as she swallowed. “I was just… so sure that the earrings you gave me were a courtship gift, and then you were finally going to tell me you felt the same way, and then when I went to ask you for my first dance, you… well, you know. You were there.”

“Yes,” Aysha said, because she didn’t know what else to say, apart from _I’ve been the biggest fool in human history._ “Why didn’t you ever say something?”

“Because! I was afraid that if I told you how I felt, or gods forbid, asked you to marry me, that you’d treat it as an order and say yes out of loyalty. I couldn’t live with that.” Tsehai’s voice grew small. “Besides, what if you’d said no?” Aysha put her hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking, and Tsehai frowned at her. “You’re laughing at me again.”

“No, not at you.” She caught her breath, and then took Tsehai’s hand, folding it in her own. Tsehai froze, and Aysha took the opportunity to put her other hand on the small of Tsehai’s back and pull her forward to straddle Aysha’s lap. She took Tsehai’s face in her hands and brought her close, pressing their foreheads together. “Only at the idea that I could ever say no to you.”

“You say no to me plenty,” Tsehai pointed out, breathless.

“Not this time.” Aysha’s lips brushed hers, soft and wanting. “Never about this.”

Tsehai’s arms slid around her neck, and they kissed slow in the shade of an alpine tree, bodies melting against one another and Tsehai’s tongue sweet and hesitant in her mouth. It was unhurried and exploratory and Aysha could have spent the next few lifetimes there, learning how she liked to be kissed. She trailed her lips over Tsehai’s jaw and the long line of her neck, kissed the soft hollow behind her ear, and Tsehai shivered, digging her fingers into Aysha’s shoulders. Aysha reached up and stroked the velvet nape of her neck, scratched her nails lightly over Tsehai’s scalp, and Tsehai nuzzled into her with a moan, blissful and pliant. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds, but she couldn’t resist tracing her nails along the bridge of Tsehai’s spine, and when Tsehai made encouraging noises she grew bolder, hand traveling up Tsehai’s hip to creep under the hem of her tunic. Her fingertips brushed bare skin, and Tsehai shuddered against her.

“Touch me,” she said, voice muffled where her face was pressed into Aysha’s shoulder, and Aysha slid her hand higher, splayed against Tsehai’s stomach. She was shaking and she knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t keep the tremors from her hand. Tsehai sat up and grabbed Aysha’s hand, their fingers twining briefly, and then she slid it further up her tunic and Aysha had to bite back a gasp as the soft curve of Tsehai’s breast filled her hand, nipple hard against her palm. “Touch me,” she said again, and kissed Aysha hard, a hint of teeth caressing her lower lip. “Please.”

“Yes,” Aysha whispered, “yes,” and touched her, reverent as a worshipper before the altar. She ran her nails over Tsehai’s ribs, traced the undersides of her breasts and teased her nipples until she squirmed, palmed her belly and thighs, squeezed her ass; over and over, reveling in the damp ache between her thighs and the joy in her heart at the helpless delight on Tsehai’s face. She leaned in and closed her teeth around one of Tsehai’s nipples through her shirt, and Tsehai hissed, thighs flexing on either side of Aysha’s hips. She started to fumble with the laces on her breeches, fingers clumsy, but Aysha put a hand over hers, stilling her movements. “Let me.”

She made it last, undoing each tie with a painstaking precision, and Tsehai let her, even as she trembled with impatience. When the last one came unlaced, she slipped her hand inside and ran her nails through the soft hair between Tsehai’s legs. Tsehai jolted. Lower, and she was welcomed by a slick heat that parted beneath her fingers. She stroked two fingers against the delicate flesh, not penetrating, just touching, and Tsehai bit her lip to stifle a surprised moan.

“How does that feel?”

“Good, it’s good – “ Aysha stroked her again, a long, slow movement that had her eyelids fluttering, and the rest of her words dissolved into an incoherent groan. Long, slow strokes became tight, lazy circles that made her pant, hips rolling into Aysha’s hand, and eventually Aysha slid a finger inside her, kissing her throat.

“Another?”

“Yes,” Tsehai said, and the word reverberated against Aysha’s lips. Aysha curled two fingers into the hot center of her, slow and easy, and her thumb found the hard little pearl that made Tsehai gasp and urge her for more. It wasn’t long before Tsehai was riding her hand, the sleeve of her tunic stuffed between her teeth to keep her from crying out while Aysha massaged her swollen clit, interspersed with feather-light touches to keep her on her toes. The front of Tsehai’s tunic had come unlaced as well, sliding off one shoulder to bare her breast, and Aysha ducked her head and kissed her nipple, teasing it with the tip of her tongue. Tsehai’s nails dug into the back of her neck. “That, keep doing that – “

Aysha curled her tongue around the stiff flesh, mimicking the motions of her thumb, and Tsehai’s entire body went rigid, clenching around Aysha’s fingers. Her clit pulsed, and her eyes had glazed over, lips parted soundlessly. Aysha kept touching her, stroking her through it until she whined and pushed Aysha’s hands away, her skin damp with sweat. Aysha slumped back against the tree, throbbing and flushed with heat. She had no idea what to expect, but it wasn’t for Tsehai to crawl right back into her lap and kiss her, pushing her thigh boldly between Aysha’s legs.

“My turn,” she said, and there was a rasp to her voice, her lips plush at the corner of Aysha’s mouth. “Show me how to touch you now.”

Aysha showed her. She brought her lips to Tsehai’s again, grinding into the lean muscle of her thigh, and from a nearby tree a whippoorwill cooed, its song carried away on the wind.

*****

Eskos was, above all, a nation built on stories, its very soil ripe with their seeds – after all, it was founded by a man half the world claimed had never existed in the first place. It was an environment in which anything could grow, given enough nourishment, and so blossomed the tale of Princess Tsehai’s engagement banquet, spreading across the country like creeping kudzu vines. By the time it reached the border towns, there were rumors that the commander of the Kebur Zabagna had fought the Sultan of Liliputia on the banquet table and the seers turned him into a stoat as a punishment for losing the duel, while others argued that the commander herself was the White Boar, possessed by a wrathful forest spirit, and she killed him in her animal form before eloping with the princess in secret that night. Neither of these things were true, but the people preferred their version anyway. It made for a better tale. There were a few, however, who sought the truth to sate their curiosity, and this was what they discovered:

On the night of the engagement feast, the palace was festooned with hundreds of paper lanterns, dyed red and purple and gold, and its jewel-toned glow lit up the night sky for miles, as did the sounds of its revelry. There was music and an enchanted fountain made to spout water in time with whatever was being played, and a troupe who performed with hoops and ribbons made of flame and came away without so much as a singed hair. There were jugglers, acrobats, and aerial dancers who did tricks suspended in silks high above the pavilion, puppeteers and fan dancers, and a flower charmer with a pan flute who turned the air heavy with the scent of lilacs. The banquet tables groaned beneath the weight of a sumptuous feast, but Princess Tsehai didn’t take so much as a bite, even though everyone else ate their fill. She was polite, of course, and gracious to all who crossed her path, but her gaze kept straying back to the entrance like she was waiting for someone. It didn’t go unnoticed that _Fitawrari_ Aysha was not in attendance that night, though nobody was foolish enough to draw attention to it.

The celebration carried on until the moon was a bright sliver in the sky, but there was only so long its purpose could be delayed, and all too soon the Eye of Eskos, the head of the seer’s council, stood before the sea of guests on the pavilion and called the princess forth. An eager hush fell over the crowd.

“Crown Princess Tsehai,” the Eye intoned, hands raised high. He was not an old man, but the constant visions had aged him, and a long white beard fell to his waist, his skin the gray-brown of the ancient oaks in the ancestral grove. “On the final night of this most honored festival, you have been tasked with a sacred duty, for who you marry affects not just yourself but all of Eskos. You must have not only a spouse, but a partner and advisor, someone who is as dedicated to a kind and just rule as you will be when the day comes. You have received their gifts, attended the Games, tended to the Planting Days, and feasted on the Hunt. Have you made your decision?”

“I have,” Tsehai said. Her composure had worn thin over the course of the night, impatience starting to show through the cracks, and by then there was a barely-concealed anxiety veiling her fine features. “But if I were to say that I need a little more time – “

A few of the suitors glanced at one another in confusion, and the Eye shook his head. “It is nearing midnight. You must make your choice now, before the new day begins.”

“Well,” Tsehai said, “that might be difficult.”

“And why is that?” the Eye demanded.

“They aren’t here yet.”

“Tsehai,” King Yekuno said sharply, his voice climbing over the commotion as the pavilion burst into scandalized chatter. “What’s going on?”

The first scream came from the palace. It was followed by several more successive shrieks, and the Kebur Zabagna materialized from their posts in an instant, surrounding the pavilion with their weapons at the ready. Tsehai tried to get everyone’s attention, but her voice was swallowed by the growing panic. Yekuno was on his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword, and then the great lolling head of the White Boar came through the entrance, blood dripping from its mouth onto the stone. It was dead, and bit by bit its enormous body emerged through the archway, buoyed along by the cloaked figure staggering beneath it. The crowd parted before them in stunned silence, and the figure halted a short distance away from Yekuno and Tsehai, a tremor running through the ground when the carcass was laid before them. The hunter straightened up, then pushed back their hood to reveal Aysha, dirty and exhausted but standing tall.

“There is no one,” she said, “who is more devoted to Eskos and her future queen than I, and I have slain the White Boar to prove it.” She placed her fist over her heart, meeting Tsehai’s eyes, and the ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. “That is, if her Highness will still have me.”

“This is highly irregular,” the Eye began, but whatever else he’d been about to say was lost when Tsehai leapt to her feet.

“Her!” she all but shouted. “I choose her!” And then she was running, losing a slipper in the process with her skirt all hitched up in her hands, faster and faster until she looked like she might take flight; Aysha caught her and lifted her at the waist, spinning her around, Tsehai’s lips meeting hers to thunderous applause –

*****

“Yes, alright, enough. I was there, no need to embellish.” Yekuno cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. They were in his study. Much like the king himself, it was neat and somber, without frills, save the enormous window that overlooked not the palace grounds but the sprawling fields and the riverside villages just beyond. A reminder, he often said, not to look inward for guidance but to always act in the best interests of his people. “I also had to apologize to thirty-odd foreign leaders immediately afterward.”

“To be fair,” Tsehai said, “I did announce that I’d marry whoever could slay the White Boar.”

“You stuck to the letter of the law, but not its spirit. Aysha wasn’t a participant in the Festival,” Yekuno reminded her. Tsehai’s grip tightened on Aysha’s arm, and Aysha patted her hand. Yekuno’s gaze was heavy on her, assessing, but he didn’t seem angry. Then again, he was hard to read at the best of times. “You’ve been quiet, _Fitawrari._ I would hear your defense.”

“Father,” Tsehai started, and Yekuno raised his hand, silencing her.

“You’ve had your turn.”

“But if you’d just – “

“Silence!” Yekuno barked, and they both flinched. The king rarely raised his voice, even in moments of temper. “I held you in my body, I brought you into this world, and I love you as I love nothing else, but for once in your life, daughter, _be quiet_. I would hear what your betrothed has to say for herself.”

“I accept full blame for this, your Majesty,” Aysha said. One of Yekuno’s brows cocked slightly, but he motioned for her to continue. “If I had been less foolish, less prideful, I would have announced my intentions at the start of the Festival and gone about this the right way. My actions have caused you grief, and for that, I’m willing to face whatever punishment you deem fit.”

Yekuno’s stern expression wavered, lips twitching, and then, to Aysha’s disbelief, he threw his head back and laughed. “Punish you? Even if I wanted to, any punishment I could dream up for you would be nothing compared to the years the two of you spent torturing yourselves.” Tsehai’s mouth opened and closed, speechless, and he folded his hands in front of him on the desk, still smiling. “Gods know why it took so long, since everyone from here to Gyanna could see how you two feel about each other, but better late than never, I suppose.”

“You knew?” Tsehai blurted. “How long have you known?” Aysha remained silent, face burning.

“Since you were girls,” Yekuno said, matter-of-fact as a man discussing the weather. “I accepted this might happen long ago. Longer than either of you, as it turns out.”

Tsehai and Aysha glanced at each other. Tsehai’s eyes glowed, luminous against her skin as she twined her fingers with Aysha’s, and Aysha’s own chest swelled with hope. “You mean…”

“I’ve watched you grow up over the years, alongside my daughter. Your parents were good people, and you inherited their good hearts.” That rare smile touched the corners of Yekuno’s mouth again, softening the angles of his face. “I’m aware that I haven’t always been the warmest presence, but believe me when I say that there could not be a worthier match for the future queen of Eskos. Not in this kingdom, and not in any other.”

The corners of Aysha’s eyes prickled with heat, and she had to clear her throat a few times before she could speak again, her voice thick. “Thank you, your Majesty. I’m honored.”

It felt terribly inadequate, but he seemed to know what she meant, because he nodded and pointed at Tsehai. “You and I are going to have a long talk later on, but for now, I have some business to attend to. Go, apologize to the Council. They’re all having a crisis of faith, and they’ll be predicting disaster for the next six weeks if you don’t smooth it over.”

“Yes, Father,” Tsehai said, without a trace of sarcasm.

They left the study arm-in-arm, and as soon as they were back out in the hallway, Tsehai let out a giggle. It was soft and inappropriate, and it made Aysha chuckle, which got Tsehai giggling again, and it wasn’t long before the two of them had to stop and lean against the wall, laughing uproariously.

“What are we laughing about?” Aysha asked when she’d calmed down enough to get a full sentence out, only to succumb to another bout of laughter.

“I don’t know,” Tsehai gasped, and that set them both off again, sides aching and hands clapped over their mouths to muffle the noise. A pair of passing attendants gave them a wide berth.

When it finally subsided, Tsehai leaned into Aysha’s side, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and Aysha put an arm around her shoulder, barely suppressing the tremor of happiness that ran through her at the gesture. She could do that now. She could put her arms around Tsehai – around her _future wife_ – whenever she wanted. “Come on, we should go speak to the Council. I’d rather not irritate the king further.”

“Or we could say we did, and go back to my chambers until dinner,” Tsehai said hopefully.

“Or,” Aysha said, and gave her a gentle push, hand on the small of her back, “we go speak with the Council as dutiful daughters of Eskos, and then tonight I’ll sneak you out of your chambers. I hear there’s something interesting happening on the waterfront after midnight.”

Tsehai went, casting an admiring glance over her shoulder as she put her hand on the doorknob. “Gods, but I can’t wait to marry you.”

“And you’re still sure that’s what you want.” Aysha came to a halt behind her, lingering in the doorway. “No regrets.”

“Are you serious?” Tsehai spread her arms wide, drenched and dazzling in sunshine. She was grinning, and Aysha’s heart stuttered when she saw it, same as the very first time all those years ago. “Trust me, Aya, it’s going to be fantastic. Just you wait and see.”

 _No regrets,_ Aysha repeated to herself, and found that there were none; her heart was wide open and vast as the plains. She stepped through the door and followed Tsehai outside, into the light.


End file.
